


Black or White

by oneswhonever



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Consent Issues, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Dubious Morality, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Law Enforcement, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Nude Photos, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape, Slow Burn, Slut Shaming, Suicidal Thoughts, basically following a rape court case, summary sucks soz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneswhonever/pseuds/oneswhonever
Summary: A confusing situation leads Mark Fischbach to make some hard decisions about the people in his life. He has always been a firm believer in doing the right thing, but being caught in the middle of right and wrong, he finds himself at a loss of what to do and who to believe.





	Black or White

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be dark and deal with some touchy themes. Chapter-specific warnings will always be posted beforehand. Bare in mind that this an AU and in no way do the contents of this story reflect what I think and/or believe about the used names.

"Hey, man."

Upon hearing the familiar voice of his flatmate, Phil Lester looked up from the novel that he was immersed in to look at Jack. He smiled at his friend, but the look was quick to slip right off his face. Rarely ever did he see Jack look so disheveled. His green-haired friend was wrapped up in a loose-fitting black sweater (that Phil could  _swear_ he's seen on Dan Howell at least five times) and it perfectly exposed his blotchy neck. He's never seen a hickey on Jack, and it was a total shock to the system. They looked less like love bites and more like his small friend had gotten mauled by a bear.

"Jesus, Jack," Phil frowned, slipping his bookmark into place. He set his book aside and rose from his chair, feeling the bones in his lower back pop. He groaned and gave himself a good stretch before advancing a few steps, towards Jack. The younger boy took the same amount of steps back. "What the hell happened to you? You look like shit."

"Thanks, I guess," Jack murmured, and dodged Phil, going right around him. He stood on his toes to grab a coffee mug from the cupboards, and helped himself to the fresh pot that was still in the maker (he clearly needed it, the dark circles under his eyes spoke for themselves). "And I'd actually rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

Phil accepted this answer, if only for a second. His eyes scanned Jack's slender frame as his friend cupped his mug, taking a small sip of the piping hot liquid. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that was quickly morphing into nausea. He had known Jack for a few years at this point, and the two were becoming quite close friends. He hated to think that something was going on his life; Jack didn't deserve any shit, honestly. He had such a kind heart, had done a lot for Phil since meeting him, and to even think about him being hurt...Phil's stomach was just continuing to churn.

"Okay..." Phil murmured, before sitting back down in his chair. He didn't touch his book this time - just continued to look at Jack. "I know you went to Chris's party last night...it sucks that I had to miss his birthday. Classes are killer."

Jack frowned, sitting down on the opposite side of the table - quite noticeably wincing as he did so. "Let me tell you that you sure as hell didn't miss much. Chris is an asshole, anyways."

Phil stared at Jack, wordless for the moment. First of all, the wincing was not going unnoticed. It looked as though it was hurting Jack to just sit down. Second of all, Chris Kendall was not a saint, but he wasn't nearly that bad. He knew Jack definitely didn't think that, either. He wasn't sure what would have prompted him to say such a thing, out of nowhere.

"Chris is my friend and I know he's yours, too," Phil said, albeit a little flatly. "What's going on, Jack? You're acting weird."

"Why does something have to be  _going on?_ " Jack asked, his tone turning sour. Phil wasn't used to this sort of attitude from him - Jack was normally a very shiny person, and to hear these things coming out of his mouth was completely uncalled for. "Can I not just be in a bad mood?"

Phil actually rolled his eyes at that. "I find it very hard to believe that you are _choosing_ to be in a bad mood. You're like, the happiest guy I know. I know you didn't just wake up and decide to be an ass."

Prior to living with one another, Jack and Phil did not know each other. However, in the first several years of rooming together, they got to be very close friends. Jack wasn't his best friend, not by a long shot, but he was pretty high up there. Since the moment they met Jack had been nothing but sweet and accepting. He was actually one of the few people that, in the midst of Phil's own period of high stress and depression, he was able to tolerate. 

Living with someone and developing a close friendship with them...eventually you got to know them, and all of their ins and outs. Phil knew Jack like the back of his hand at this point, and it was mutual. Jack wasn't the type to act like this, or freeze people out. He was usually very open to talking, having stated on multiple occasions that he liked to feel like people were listening to what he had to say. Jack and Phil meshed well in this regard. Phil could talk someone's ear off if he wanted to, if he felt passionate enough about something, but as he got older, he found that he preferred to be the listener. He could stay up with a friend until the darkest hours of the night listening to them talk about anything and everything. He and Jack had a lot of late night conversations, curled up on the couch with hot chocolate, where Jack could rant about everything and Phil would just listen. In those moments, Phil truly could not feel closer to anybody - not even his best friend.

So, for Jack to freeze him out like this - it was a clear indication that something was wrong. 

"So, I'm an ass, now?" Jack asked, though Phil assumed it was rhetoric. Jack got to his feet, abandoning his cup of coffee at the table. "Nice, Phil. Real fucking nice. Way to be understanding."

He started retreating down the hall, and Phil leaped to his feet to bound after him. "Jack, what the hell? I literally could not be anymore understanding right now. You're just not talking to me."

"Not everyone wants to talk all the time. Why can't you just accept that?" Jack asked, disappearing into his bedroom. He left the door open, though. Phil approached and stood in the doorway, but didn't make a move to step in. "If you came over here to keep hounding me, you can just...leave."

Before Phil could explain himself, and explain that he wasn't there to preach, he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes settled on the floor, where a pair of boxers laid among a pile of clothes. Jack's stuff, obviously. The backside of the boxers were stained red, an unmistakable blood stain. For a moment, Phil was rendered totally silent as he stared, horrid images flooding his mind faster than he could even control them. 

"Jack," he managed, though his throat felt suddenly tight. His eyes didn't move from the spot they were fixated on. "What happened?"

Jack frowned, but his eyes followed Phil's gaze. He stared for a moment as well, and his eyebrows furrowed together as though he didn't know what he was looking at. Beyond that, the expression on his face was totally unreadable. For a solid thirty seconds neither of them said a word, nor did they tear their gazes away.

It was at about that point that Jack came over to the door, closed it in Phil's face, and locked it. 


End file.
